Gotham
by jailbreak2468
Summary: An new inhabitant of Gotham City struggles with daily life.
1. Chapter 1

April 13, 2010.

Gotham city. The place where day is dark and night is even darker. Where night seems more friendly than any other time, but only because you're unaware to the filth for a few hours. Assuming you can sleep. Gotham city is a cesspool. One that lives and thrives, winding its way through its inhabitants until there's nothing left of them but empty husks. Yeah, Gotham's just a few steps from hell, though some I know would label it hell itself. Label it whatever; Hell; Trickster; Liar; Thief. Gotham's all that and more. It's also my home.

I've lived here ever since my dad got transferred. He's on the police force. Or _was_. He didn't he even make it two weeks before someone knifed him in the back. Didn't even get a real funeral. A grave was dug, and he was laid in it. No casket, no ceremony, no shit. And guess who was the only one there? That's right, me. No one else would step foot in Gotham for even as much as a minute, but they all sent their cards and flowers. None of it was any use to me. I needed someone to care. I wished that someone had known my dad like I did, and missed him as badly. Two days later, I got my wish.

My mom committed suicide. Hung herself by a bedsheet out the window. A note was taped to the pillow with the words _I'm so sorry_ on it. So she _had_ missed him. And now I missed her. Yeah, she was rotten. You know how almost every story paints the guy as the one who drinks, swears, and beats on his kids? Well, that was my mom. She never beat on dad, though. I was a mistake, never supposed to have been born. But I was, straight out of high school, while she wanted to go to college. Trust me, she made have been upset, but her parents were more upset. She wanted an abortion, but they made her go through with it. After that, Dad took care of me.

I reported the suicide. The cops just looked at me and laughed. What the one cop said chilled me to the bone: "Who cares if your momma bitch killed herself? Happens every day, kid. Get used to it" What's even worse was that he was right.

The cemeteries here are full, but that doesn't stop people from going in. Those that can are exported. Back to 'city of origin' or whatever. There's death on every street. Its amazing people don't go insane here. I almost did.

Both parents dying within days of each other put me into a tailspin. I fell into a deep depression and almost committed suicide myself. Probably the only valid cop in this hellhole saved me from a run-in with a gang. Once he found out I was heading there on purpose, he sat me down and made me tell him my story. An hour later, he handed me twenty bucks and told me to get out of Gotham. That I didn't deserve the shit that happens here. He told me I deserved a good life, and to move to someplace like Metropolis. So I did.

I don't know exactly what it is about this city, but I guess… I guess it kind of grabbed me. Maybe that's why people still live there. I came back once, _just to visit_, I told myself. I actually ended up renting an apartment. I would almost swear that the city gets inside your brain, twisting its way around so it can manipulate you back. There's plenty of evidence to that theory. I mean, plenty of 'normal' people with 'normal' minds go bat-crazy after a week in here. Scientifically, that shouldn't happen, but it does. Of course, if I ever mentioned my theory to a _real_ scientist, I'd probably get labeled as crazy myself.


	2. Chapter 2

April 27, 2010

If you ever need help here, don't run to the cops. They're just as corrupted and likely to throw you back to the sharks, but only _after_ they've screwed you over. Don't go to friends. In Gotham, there's just no such thing. The guy who saved your life the other day may use you as a human shield tomorrow. It's best to stick it out and deal with it yourself.

Take today for instance. I was on my job, delivering food to what few elderly are still alive, and some guys tries to stick a sharp object up my ribs to take the food. I managed to deliver it anyways, and punched him a few for good measure. I didn't give much thought until some guy from an opposing gang thanked me for pretending to be one of them and beating up the other guy. Turns out, my seven-year-old jacket sports the same colors as the opposing gang. So I bought a new jacket. Black, gold, red. Kinda bold, but I liked it. Today must not have been my day, though, because black and gold with at lest two stripes _happens _to be the colors for the first gang. Now I'm the target of a full-fledged war, and I _still _don't have a good jacket.

Go ahead. Laugh. You're not living here. If you were, you'd understand how dangerous this is. I contacted the cop who'd helped me before, and he advised that I cover my tracks. 'Don't let either side know where you live or who you deal with' he said. When I told him I didn't 'deal', he acted surprised, which surprised me. 'Don't worry' he said, 'you will'.

Also found out today that the rumors about the big names here? True. I was two blocks away from the bank when the Joker came out, right after blowing the place up. He was on his bike, and passed by me so close I could have touched him. Not that I would. He's everything people say, and more. That visage is, quite frankly, terrifying. And I've seen quite a few horror movies.

For those of you who haven't heard about this maniac, let me describe him. He's tall, but very thin. He wears a purple pinstripe suit with green trim and a tiny flower on the lapel. His face is frighteningly inhuman. Pale skin so white it must have been chemicals, green hair pulled harshly back, and a very bad makeup job. His eyes are sunken, and there's black painted around them, which, paired with his obnoxiously creepy grin, makes him look quite skeletal. In fact, I didn't even know it was the joker until someone near me shouted out his name. The maniac grinned in the guy's direction, pulled out a gun, and shot him. The laughter that erupted from him sent more ice down my spine than anything else I've ever heard. I've sworn off horror movies, too. Living in Gotham is like living _in_ a horror movie.

Batman exists, too, or so I hear. He didn't come sweeping by to arrest the Joker, though. Quite a few people were upset, and the newspapers were full of critics. Whatever. I'm sure the Batman is quite a busy figure. I won't knock him for not doing _one_ job, if what people say about him is true.


End file.
